Cutting
by ToLoveIsToDestory
Summary: Clove has always known what she wanted. Her dream was to win the Hunger Games but lately, that's been changing. She doesn't want to win the Games anymore, she wants Cato. Summary sucks, but I pinky promise that the story doesn't!
1. Training

CHAPTER 1

Cato slices at the knife and knocks it to the ground just before it pierces his heart. He swings the sword again, knocking yet another knife to the ground.

"You bored yet?" I stroke the hilt of my knife, and then hurl it at him.

"You out of knives yet?" He responds after sending the knife to the ground. He pushes his hair back out of his eyes impatiently, adjusting his grip on the sword.

"I will be," I say, grabbing another knife. Then before he can answer, I pelt him with knives, one after the other giving him no time to think. Sparks fly as Cato sends each knife to the ground. By the end Cato stands there, soaked to the skin with his own sweat, looking extremely pleased of himself. I roll my eyes and let another knife fly. The knife flies past Cato and sticks to the wall behind him. He flinches a second later.

"Gotcha", I say, springing up from my seat on the sofa. I rip off the hem of my shirt and ball it up. "Here." I hand him the makeshift bandage. He's staring at his arm in disbelief and doesn't take it. I press the bandage against his arm. "I think you're done for today."

"Huh," he murmurs, not really hearing me.

I pull the bandage away from his arm and realized that the cut is deeper than I thought. This will need some stitches.

"Come on." I drag him behind me. "You're so lucky I didn't aim for your heart."

The hospital is so familiar to me. I've been here too many times to count. As far as I know though, this is probably Cato's first time in the hospital. Even though he's been training as a Career for more than a decade, no one had been able to touch him, never mind hurt him. He's practically spotless, not a scar on him.

I push Cato through the double doors and the nurses rush to his rescue. They shoot him full of morphling before leading him into a separate room. It's unnecessary, really. Cato can handle the pain.

The nurse won't let me follow him. She insisted that I wait in the waiting room like everyone else. Defeated, I fall back into a plush chair and glare pointedly at her until she scurries back to her desk. I busy myself with carving my name into the expensive mahogany while the nurse twists her cap in her hands nervously. At least she knows enough not to speak. I finish the curve of my 'e' and glanced up at the clock. I sighed audibly causing other families to look my way anxiously. This is taking much too long. I get up and walk over to the room Cato had disappeared into. The nurse timidly walks toward me with her mouth open. I don't want to hear what she has to say. I throw the knife and it's an inch from her head.

"Sit down," I say menacingly.

The nurse doesn't attempt stop me this time.

I slam the door open just to scare the nurse even more. She's cowering behind her desk at this point. Near death experiences tend to get people in line.

I find Cato sleeping. His arm is neatly stitched up and bandaged. Apparently they gave his a dose of sleep syrup too. All this for a little nick in the arm? Seems like a bit much to me. I sit at the edge of his bed and shake his arm.

"Cato," I say as his eyes flutter open.

"Clove?" His speech is slurred and he has trouble pronouncing my name. With some difficultly, he manages to sit up. "I can't feel anything neck down," he grumbles.

"The nurses pumped you full of morphling and possibly sleep syrup," I say hitting him repeatedly, amused by the fact that he can't feel shit.

"Hah, funny," Cato closes his eyes and leans back. "Why you wake me up then, if you knew that I'm under the influences of sleep syrup?"

"Because dear Cato, I find it entertaining to annoy you when you are unable to fight back," I say in my most obnoxious voice.

Cato groans and turns around, burying his face in the pillow. "Go away".

I smack his leg. "Can you feel this?"

"No," he says into the pillow.

"What about this?" I hit him harder.

"Yes".

"Really?" I ask, hitting him again.

"NO, not really", Cato says. "What do I have to do to make you go away?"

"Kill me."

He looks up at me, his eyes clear and blue. "I will, just not yet."


	2. Artist

I leave the room shaken up. I can't tell if Cato was serious or joking. I didn't get a chance to ask him either. He passed out precisely afterwards. Not even the fearless Cato can resist the sleep syrup for long. Cato's words echo in my mind. _I will, just not yet. _I shudder and shook my head in an attempt to shake off this unwanted feeling. It's been a long time since I last felt like this. I would think that I was incapable of feeling scared. Years of brutal training should have knocked that out of me. Cato, of all people, got me scared. Damn Cato and his stupid threats. I retrieve my knife on the way out and consider going back and carving my name across Cato's chest. Teach him to mess with me.

I decided against it. It would offer no fun if Cato couldn't feel the blade sinking into his flesh. The purpose would be lost if he didn't scream. I shove the knife into my boot next to the dozen of other knives. I cross the waiting room and glared at the nurse one last time before stepping outside.

I chose knives as my weapon for a reason. Whereas Cato's sword is deadly, it can't do what knives can do. I don't need paints to create something beautiful. All I need is a knife and a canvas.

Cato can be my canvas next time.

I head back to the training center. Scattered across the floor are hundreds of knives. If I had stepped on the training mat without shoes, my foot would doubtlessly be shredded to ribbons.

I pick up knife after knife and arrange them carefully on their hooks. The sharp knives are on the left side of the wall, the long knives on the right, and the torturous one in the center. The knives in the middle are made especially for carving into the human flesh. These blades curve inwards and end in a wickedly sharp point. I can imagine Cato kneeling in the sea of knives, the blood dripping down his arms and flowing onto the floor, trickling in between the blades. Knowing Cato, he would die before he lets me hear him scream. He wouldn't cry to save his life. And _that _is just the type of attitude that makes me ecstatic to start painting.


	3. State of Mind

CHAPTER 3

One more day until the reaping, just one more day. I lace up my boots slowly, letting the reality of it all sink in. Tucking a knife into my belt, I head outside and plucked a rose from the garden. I'll need it for my training today.

I throw open the training center's door and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. The stench of sweat and blood of twenty bodies attacked my nose threatening to knock me out on the smell alone. Careers are packed tightly together like slaves on the Middle Passage. There must be a limit to how many people can be in the building at once. This cannot be safe; someone can suffocate to death in here. Maybe someone already had, that would explain the rotting odor. I squeeze through the crowd and head off to the separate training room my mother had reserved for me.

Laying out my knives, I carefully select the sharpest one. Placing the rose in front of me, I roll up my sleeve. Closing my eyes, I loosen my hold on the knife. I relax my arm and touch the dagger to the blank canvas.

I can't think. I can't speak. The pain is too much. The blade slices again and far away, a little girl is screaming.

"_Mommy, please!" the girl chokes out, reaching out for her mother's comfort. She's met by a savage kick to the chest. She doesn't stop reaching out though. "Mommy, mommy, mommy."_

_The mother raises the dagger again and carves into the soft flesh. She twists the knife 360 degrees before yanking it out. _

"_Clove, listen to me. Pain is a state of mind!" _

_The girl can't stop her tears from coming. She knows that crying is disgusting. She knows that crying is unacceptable. If she cries, her mommy won't love her anymore. She bites down on her bottom lip and slams her head against the cold marble floor. Maybe if she hits her head hard enough, she'll pass out. Then the pain would go away. Suddenly she's dragged upright. Her mommy's hand comes away with a fistful of brown hair. Her mommy lets the strands fall to the ground one by one. There's a throbbing on the back of her head now. _

"_You are weak," the mother sneers. "Weak." _

_The girl buried her face in her arms, rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She expects the kick to come but it doesn't hurt any less. She falls backwards, her head smashing against the marble. The tears are flowing freely now. _

"_Pain is a state of mind. Say it!" The mother's hand came down on the little girl's face. The slap was nothing compared to the cuts on her arms. _

_She didn't say it. It couldn't be true. It hurts too much to be only in her head. Suddenly she's overwhelmed by the searing pain on the back of her neck. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, sickening her. _

"_Pain is a state of mind, pain is a state of mind! State of mind. Pain is only a state of mind!" The girl screamed, her tiny fists pounding the floor. Blood poured all around her. _

Pain is a state of mind. Pain is a state of mind. Pain is a state of mind.

I open my eyes. The rose is swirling along the length of my arm. Mother was right; pain is only a state of mind.


	4. Elephant in the Room

CHAPTER 4

I woke up feeling as though a very large and fat elephant is sitting on my chest. I'm surprised my ribs haven't cracked and shattered from the weight yet. I summon my strength and push hard at the body, willing it to disappear. No such luck. The elephant shifts on top of me and knocks the air out of my lungs. Gasping for breath, I resort to scratching and clawing at it. Suddenly, the elephant rolls off me, taking the weight and warmth with it. I sit up and pull a T-shirt over my head, glaring at the elephant the entire time.

"What are you doing here?" My eyes, without my permission, skims over the body and my hands suddenly want to jump into a session of inappropriate touching. I resist the urge and force my eyes on his face.

"Sleeping?" Cato replies, peering sleepily at the digital clock. It's 7:00.

I pull the covers off him and point at the door. "Leave."

"What?" He looks at me as though I'm told him I'm pregnant.

"Leave." I say, enunciating very clearly. "Would you like the definition? Part of speech maybe?"

He pushes himself up on his elbows and annoyance flashes in his eyes, "Fine, I'm going. Just don't call me again. I'm not coming if the first thing you do in the morning is kick me out."

He starts to get up but I stop him. "What?" I ask in disbelief, using the same question he asked just a moment ago.

He smirks and glances down at my hand on his chest. I snatch my hand away and look at him expectedly, feeling the blood rush to my face.

"You called me in the middle of the night, saying something about bad dreams. I can't remember." Cato stretches, drawing my eyes to his biceps. One word: yum.

"I don't remember calling anyone", I say suspicious. "You sure that was me calling you?"

"I should gather some hard evidence next time. I'm positive, how else would I get in here?" He answers, grabbing the covers.

I open my mouth to speak but realize that he's telling the truth. How else would he get in if I didn't let him?

He pulls the covers over him and deciding it's too early, went right back to sleep. I can never understand how people fall asleep so fast. I leave the room quietly and slipped into the bathroom.

The girl in the mirror has long lanky brown hair and dark circles around her eyes. I rub my eyes as if doing so would make the circles fade away. I must admit, I didn't sleep too well last night. Cato wasn't wrong when he mentioned bad dreams. I turn the shower on and let it run as I step out of my clothes. I stand under the hot water, letting it wash away the nightmares. Finally, I work up the effort to actually wash my hair instead of just standing there. An hour later, I'm wrapped in a towel, standing in front of the mirror again. That's a bit better. I pull my wet hair into a ponytail and dress in a black tank top with a matching bottom.

I leave the bathroom rubbing antibiotics on my arm where the rose is.

First thing I notice when I enter the room is that the bed's empty and the window's open.


	5. Reaping

CHAPTER 5

The town center is packed with kids. About twelve Careers stand in a circle designed to make them look extra scary. Each one of them dressed in all black with their hair slicked back. I fight back a snicker, they look absolutely ridiculous. One of them has his arms crossed over his chest with a sneer on his face. A blonde girl is glaring at random people. I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud.

I attempt to walk past them with a straight face but needless to say, I failed miserably. The second Cato joins their little group, I nearly died from laughter. Cato growls at me but it only makes me laugh harder.

Pulling myself back together, I head to the sixteen years old section, ignoring the death threats directed at me.

"Welcome to the 74th Reaping!" A woman with baby blue hair stands on the stage with her hands placed on her hips. I cringe as her squeaky Capitolized voice attack my ears.

She talks excessively into the microphone and I swear everyone in the audience is dying. I touch the hilt of my knife and considered killing her and saving us all from this torture. I'm sure the Peacemakers will award me for ridding District 2 of this… this nuisance.

I'm about to turn into a crazed murderer when she reaches into the glass bowl, pulling out a thin piece of paper. Showtime.

I push my way up to the front but before I can volunteer, some Career already has. The petite blonde makes her way up the stage, her ponytail swinging behind her.

It takes me a moment before I can process what just happened. Minor inconvenience however. I pull my knife out and hurl it across the center. The knife flies over the crowd and kids are dropping to the ground for cover. It hits its target directly in the thigh. The blonde cries out in pain, tears streaming down her face. She's obviously not strong enough for the Games. A little knife in the leg and she's crying already. Weak.

All eyes and cameras are focused on me. I twirl a knife around my fingers, licking my lips slowly. I take a step forward and the crowd takes a step back. This is my moment. Everything has to be executed perfectly.

"I volunteer," I announce, looking down at the crowd as though they're nothing but vermin. No one protests.

The crowd parts as I make my way towards the stage. The blonde is still a pathetic lump on the floor. I yank my knife out of her thigh and her high pitched screams echo off the Justice Building behind us. Stepping over her, I jump on the stage paying no attention to the Peacekeepers dragging the blonde away.

The escort finally gets over her shock and reaches into the males' bowl, still obviously shaken. Before her fingers find a name, Cato volunteers, walking towards the stage with so much confidence, that no one else dares volunteer.

That's my boy.

He looks at the escort and her voice gets noticeably squeakier.

"This year's tributes! Clove and Cato!"


	6. Alone

CHAPTER 6

I walk into the hot and stuffy Justice Building with two Peacekeepers at my side. The air in here is stale and just gross. I hold my breath as they lead me into a spacey room at the end of the hall. The room has no windows and the only furniture in it is a red velvet sofa. I sit down on the sofa and made myself comfortable.

It's time for my nonexistent friends and so-called family to wish me luck.

I sit there for an hour, waiting, hoping.

No one comes.


	7. Like Something Out of a Dream

CHAPTER 7

_It doesn't hurt. _I swallow the lump in my throat and pretend that I don't care. I should've known that Mother wouldn't come. Mother doesn't believe that I'm sick. She can't admit that I'm dying. Mother can't afford to lose her precious trophy. Who else is going to win the Games when I die?

I touch the back of my head and picture a small clump of fast growing cells, multiplying by the milliseconds, getting bigger and bigger until it swallowed my brain whole. The tumor is a bomb, and I'm running out of time. Only a year left. I'm losing my memories. It starts with forgetting dreams and it ends with death.

Suddenly, I can hear footsteps down the hall. I take the next few seconds to compose myself. I straightened my back and plastered a lazy bored look on my face just before the Peacekeepers swings the doors open.

The bulky Peacekeeper nods at me and I get up. A skinny Peacekeeper walks quickly in front of me and the bulky one behind me so that even if I wanted to escape, I couldn't.

They escort me to the train and soon Cato joins me. He brightens when he sees me and smirks, "You only have two guards."

I look behind him and groaned when I saw the army of Peacekeepers.

"Shut up," I say childishly.

He laughs and starts to say something when the annoying escort rudely cuts him off.

"If you darlings will step on the train," she squeaks timidly, halfway hiding behind the bulky Peacekeeper. "We really must be on our way."

Cato shrugs and gets on the train, pulling me after him.

Suddenly Cato stops in his tracks and I ran into him. My head hits his shoulder and annoyed, I shoved him out of the way. My eyes widen as I step inside. The interior of the train has bright white lights everywhere, casting a brilliant glow on the place. Food, _food_ covers every inch of the tables and like Cato, I'm frozen.

It's like something out of a dream. I started wandering around the room, running my fingers along the tables just to make sure it's all real. Cato follows me, and sometime during the whole 'wandering' thing, he takes my hand. He squeezes it gently and I'm wishing that if this is a dream…

Don't let me wake up.


	8. Memory Thief

CHAPTER 8

Where is the tumor exactly? The tumor is on the hippocampus, smacked right in the middle of my brain. The hippocampus is responsible for storing memories. The tumor erases memories as it grows.

I used to only forget dreams. Not anymore. The tumor's growing, feeding on my memories like a greedy monster, snatching memories with its grubby little hands.

I can remember. I can remember. I can remember.

The hands reach deep into my head and rummages through all the thoughts I ever had. It digs deeper, looking for the juiciest thought. It pulls memories out of my head like how a magician pulls rabbits out of a hat. I can't stop it.

The hands select a memory and drag it away. I run after the hand, trying to remember just a little longer.

I know where I am. I'm in the train. I know.

The hand's gone.

I'm scared suddenly. Where am I?

"Cato!" I scream, running blindly in any direction.

I call his name automatically, like a knee jerk reflex. Its Cato I run to when I'm scared. He's the one that makes everything better.

From out of nowhere, strong arms grab me from behind. I try to peel the fingers off me but I'm not strong enough. I can't reach my knives with my arms pinned to my sides.

Frustrated, I slam the back of my head against the person holding me. My efforts mean nothing. I can't breathe now. The blood's pounding to my head and the white lights are nauseating. My chest contracts painfully and my vision blurs.

"Let her go!" That voice… it's so familiar.

The arms are gone and I collapse onto the carpet. The floor vibrates under me but I don't worry about it.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Cato yells, lifting me off the floor. His arms are so familiar and warm and safe. I don't want him to ever let go.

"I didn't do anything. Your girlfriend ran into my room." The man sneers the word girlfriend. "I simply removed her. Not my fault she turned psycho."

I open my eyes and Brutus is glaring at me. I can't help it; I flipped him off.

"Crazy bitch," Brutus mutters. "I want the boy. Enobaria." He announces before leaving the room, shouldering past Enorbaria.

Enorbaria's been watching from the doorway and after flashing her canines at me, she disappears down the hall as well.


	9. Birthday Cuts

CHAPTER 9

Cato and I sit across from each other, not saying anything. I'm glad; I don't want him asking questions.

_I sat next to Cato in the training room and picked at the bandages around my arms. _

"_Hey, quit that." Cato slapped my hand and frowned at me. "You're gonna get that infected Clover."_

"_My name's Clove." I cross my arms. "You keep calling me Clover." _

"_I know." He says, stretching his legs out in front of him. _

"_Then why do you keep doing it?" _

"_I don't know. You make me feel lucky Clover." He shrugs and gets up, grabbing the sword. _

"_I don't feel so lucky," I reply. I scratch at the bandages. _

"_Does it hurt?" Cato asks, looking slightly sick. _

"_No. Pain is only a state of mind, right?"_

"_I guess," Cato looks at me uncertainly._

_Cato's weird. I pull my new knife out of its sheath. "Cato, check this out." I hand him the knife and smile. "I got it for my birthday. Mommy brought it for me. You like?" _

_Mommy also gave me birthday cuts. Six of them, running parallel down my arms; one for each year I'm alive. _

_Cato draws an "x" on the back of my hand. "That means I love," he says grinning. _


	10. Schizophrenia

CHAPTER 10

When Cato was eight and I was six, we made up our own sign language. I thought Cato was the smartest person on earth to think of that and we added more and more signs to our secret code until it allowed us to say anything we wanted.

We didn't make the code for fun; we made it so that we could have secrets and still share them. I didn't feel so alone anymore. I had Cato.

Slowly, the world didn't seem so black and white. Winning the Games wasn't what I wanted most anymore. Cato became that.

Before he seemed like a monster to me –an _insane_ monster. He talked to himself. Slicing the air, he'll yell and lunge at nothing. Although he scared me, I would watch him from the corners, strangely fascinated by his skill and strength. He'll swing at the air attempting to kill some girl named Willow. The thing was: she was only in his head.

Cato hallucinates all the time, his delusions haunting him day and night. "'Voices', he calls them but I know that it's not just voices. Willow is as real to him as I am.

He tells me about her sometimes. Willow likes to play, he says. She likes to hurt. Her words are her weapon. He admits that sometimes he wishes that he could put a bullet in his head so that she'll shut up. It scares me when he talks like that.

He says that Willow's gone. That's he's not schizophrenic anymore. I don't believe him. I see him glance behind him sometimes, or tilt his head listening when no one is talking.

That's what he's doing now; tilting his head. I shake my head and rest my chin on my knees.

Neither of us says anything for a long time. The sun sets and dinner is being served in the next room. Aromas from the dining room fill the room and we sit there, frozen in thoughts and memories.

Eventually, Cato shifts in his seat and rests his elbows on the coffee table between us.

Cato looks at me strangely and his hands fly into a series of complicated motions.

_What's wrong? _

I tap the palm of my hand three times. _Nothing. _

He snorts and crosses his fingers. _Liar. _

I am lying but so what? Cato doesn't need to know everything.

I get up and he raises his eyebrow. He closes his hand and opens it slowly. _What are you hiding? _

I swallow and tap my hand three times again.

He gets up too fast, causing his knees to hit the coffee table.

_Keep lying. I guess I don't care anymore. _

He looks away quickly and leaves the room, his shoulders stiff.

There's a sound of a door closing and the air is suddenly colder. I wrap my arms around myself and the pain washes over me like a flash flood. It crashes over my head and I can't breathe. I fall to the ground and my world spins. I fight the pain, trying to push it down. Trying to turn it into nothingness.

Pain is a state of mind. Pain is a state of mind.

Then I realized…not this pain. This pain is as real as the scars dancing on my arms. It burns worse than the sun. I thought… I thought I was immune against pain.

I forgot how it felt to hurt.


	11. Deer in the Headlights

CHAPTER 11

I go down the hall, my fingers trailing along the walls. The smooth metal walls are caving in on me. Walls creeping closer and closer, I feel out of place here.

I didn't realize I was following Cato until I was standing in front of his door. I wipe my hands on my pants, trying to get them dry. Since when did I get so nervous before talking to Cato? Since when did I start mapping out our conversations?

Before I change my mind, I turn the knob and hastily pushed the door open.

It opens soundlessly and a ray of light enters the dark room. It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness and once they do, I find Cato sitting on the bed, staring straight ahead.

"You should leave," he says, not looking at me.

"You're an idiot if you think I would leave," I say, pretending his words don't sting.

"I'm not talking to you." Cato gestures at something or _someone_ I can't see. "Willow's here."

"I don't know. I don't care. Get out." He pulls his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. His voice rises, getting louder and more deranged at each syllable. "Get out! Get out!"

"Get out of my head!" His eyes open and the pupils are dilated, making his eyes a bottomless pool of black. His hand seizes the sword beside him and he launches it across the room. It hits the full length mirror, sending the mirror crashing to the floor. Cracks snake through the mirror and his reflection now shows what he really is. Broken.

He's yelling, as though his words could possibly drown out Willow. His hands grab anything and he chucks the furniture across the room. I'm frozen with shock. It's been years since anything like this happened.

I stand there, speechless, a deer in the headlights. I don't know how tohelpbut I can't stand here and do _nothing_. Whenever he's fighting his demons, what am I doing? I watch from the sidelines, safe at home while he was on the battlefield.

I'm disgusting. Selfish, so absorbed with my own life, I pretend that Cato's delusions didn't exist. That if we don't talk about it, it's just disappears conveniently.

The self loathing builds up and suddenly I can't take it anymore. Impulsively, I run across the room and tackle Cato, pinning him to the bed.

Then we're both yelling. Angry words directed at everyone and everything. Anything that ever angered us shot out in a continuous pulse of insanity. The words bleed together and I don't even know what I'm mad at anymore. The room is burning up, the tension and emotions setting the room on fire.

The heat is suffocating and as quickly as it started, it ended. I lean forward, my knife pressed against his throat.

He lies still under me, breathless. His heart pounds unevenly, matching mine. I trace his collarbone, letting the cold blade kiss his skin. Suddenly Cato jerks forward and the blade sinks into him.

I fall back, pulling the knife away from him. He knocks the knife out of my hand with one hand and rolls over so that he's on top. Blood trickles out of the cut, touching the collar of his flannel.

"Why did you cut yourself?" I ask, unable to get over my shock.

"You should not do that in the arena. You do that, you're dead," he says with a playful gleam in his eyes.

"You caught me off guard," I say indignantly. I squirm under him, trying to push him off my legs.

He looked at me amused. "Clove, I'm freaking 180 pounds of pure muscle. I'm a foot taller than you. Don't tell me you're actually trying to push me off."

I growl at him in frustration which just makes him explode with laughter.

"Did you just _growl _at me?" He asks incredulously.

I ignore him and hit him relentlessly but apparently, he finds that to be hilarious too. This is ridiculous. I can't move under his weight.

"Cato! Get off!" I push at him uselessly. My thighs are protesting loudly and I can't feel my feet anymore. "Damn it, Cato! You're cutting off my circulation!"

Still laughing uncontrollably, he gets off, rolling over on the bed, laughing hysterically.

I glare at him, bombarding him with fluffy pillows.

"You're…. you're…. you're despicable!" I splutter, smacking him over the head with another pillow. The pillow bursts open and white downy feathers rain down on us. We watch the feathers hang in the air, slowly falling before settling on the bed. I smack his arm and gave him my best glare. He gives me an apologetic smile and raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry," he says, holding back laughter.

I give him another glare and turn my back on him. I don't expect it when his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me in a hug.

"Sorry," Cato says and this time, I'm positive he means it.

It's getting really difficult to stay mad at him and I give in. I lean into his chest, loving how solid he feels.

"Better be sorry," I say, pushing his head back so that I could see the cut on his neck better. "Cato, don't do that next time. You could've slit your throat and died."

"I don't have to worry about dying. I'm dying in the arena anyways." He talks about him dying as though it's a well known fact.

"What on earth are you talking about? You're a Career," I say, completely and thoroughly confused.

"Do you really think I could be a victor when it means you have to die?"


	12. Tears Don't Fall

CHAPTER 12

What is sacrifice?

It's complicated. It's selfless. It's something only a hero would attempt, an act that would earn you a place in heaven. Whatever I'm doing, I know for sure that it isn't sacrifice. I can't sacrifice anything when I have nothing left to lose. I can't sacrifice when death already has me in its grasp. Truth is: I'm already gone.

I lean out the open window and tilt my head back, letting the night sky swallow me. The night invites me to come out and fly with its diamonds for eternity. I decline but the lights are seducing me. The stars flash by so quickly it looks like a million shooting stars are surrounding me, showering me with million of wishes.

There's a soft rustle behind me and I spin around to find Cato right behind me. The silvery light's streaming in so that Cato's drenched in moonlight. The temptation's gone and the night's call is muffled.

"Why did you volunteer?" His words are desperate and I wish on a million stars that it didn't have to end this way.

"I don't know," I whisper, forcing the lies out.

"Do you remember when we said that we would never join the same Games? Did you forget what that means? It means that we have to kill each other. In the arena, I can't be your friend anymore." He turns away quickly.

I pull him back and force him to look at me. "I know what it means."

"Then why?" I've never heard him sound so… so heartbroken.

"I have my reasons. I can't tell you why but you need to trust me," I say firmly. I can't tell him that I volunteered to make sure he wins. I can't tell him that I'm dying. Those are distractions and distractions are weaknesses. Weaknesses will get him killed.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it just gets bigger. Tears don't fall. They never fall. When you're a Career, you don't know how to cry.

"I trust you," he says finally. "And if you want to be the 74th victor, that's fine by me. Winning doesn't matter to me anymore."

"Stop being crazy," I order.

"I am crazy," he replies, raising an eyebrow. "Willow says hi by the way."

"You're not crazy." I push his hair back, watching as the moonlight washes over his face. The silver beams make him seem immortal. While petty people all around him die off slowly, he'll live on forever.

What is forever?

It's nothing but an empty promise. It's something that everyone strives for but can only achieve in their dreams. People reach for forever but don't they see that it's just an illusion? Forever is a lie, an impossible promise to keep.


	13. Shots

CHAPTER 13

I toss over onto my side and tried to fall asleep. With my eyes closed and my body warm against Cato's, sleep simply refuses to come. I open my eyes and sit up frustrated. I can't sleep when my brain won't stop thinking. I look down at Cato and I was so sure he was sleeping when his eyes flash open.

"I can't sleep either." Cato confesses. "I'm thinking too much."

I smile when our reasons for staying awake match.

"Hmm, same here," I say, plastering a thoughtful look on my face. "I keep thinking of a million ways to kill you."

He laughs and nudges me. "I don't think so. I think you were thinking about how hot I look when I'm sleeping."

"I wasn't watching you sleep idiot!" Well, I wasn't. I was observing. There's difference between watching and observing. I push him off the bed and towards the door. "Go get some sleep syrup."

He rolls his eyes but did as told. He swaggers out of the room, looking extremely cute in his rumpled clothes. I watch- _observe_- him as he leaves the room, fascinated by how he manages to look perfect even after a session with Willow. He comes back with a bottle filled to the brim with a sticky, condensed liquid and hands it to me. I open the bottle and the sickly sweet smell almost makes me pass out.

I toss him the bottle, wrinkling my nose.

He makes the mistake of opening the bottle and shoves it back in my hands. "I bet I could stay awake longer than you if I took that."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge I'm hearing?"

Five minutes later we're sitting across from each other with shots of sleep syrup lined up on the mattress. I chug one and Cato follows me. My eyes close automatically and I force them open, frantically blinking away the sleepiness. Cato's eyes slip close but he refuses to let me win, taking another shot. My hand finds another glass and I swallow the liquid inside, the sweetness painfully going down my throat. I'm about to give up with I hear a loud crash. I stumble off the bed and Cato's knocked out on the floor. I grin once I know I'm victorious. Getting my arms around his torso, I try to help him up but somehow trip over his body. I land awkwardly next to him and I can't stay awake any longer. My eyes drift close and I search for his hand in the dark. My hand holds his and I half-asleep trace an 'x' on the back of his hand.

_I love you. _


	14. Sugar and Spice

CHAPTER 14

I wake up feeling more rested than I have in a while thanks to the sleep syrup. Although I spent the night on the ground, I'm not sore at all. I make a mental note, reminding myself to sleep on Cato in the arena. No doubt the arena's floor is hard and Cato makes the perfect portable bed.

Cato's still sleeping under me and I smile widely when I remember that I won. Guess Cato isn't so tough when it comes down to sleep syrup. I shake him awake and wait for his blue eyes to open.

"Morning sleeping beauty," I sing as he blinks away the sleep. "I won by the way." I add proudly.

He groans and rolls over on his stomach. "Damn."

He stretches and winces. "Some advice: never sleep on the floor. It's back breaking."

I laugh. "I know. Luckily, I slept on top of you. So I'm good."

He makes a face and heads for the shower, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes.

I get up and head for the door and my own shower.

"Wait," He sticks his head out the door, his shirt open and his jeans riding low on his hips. He shrugs his flannel off and tosses it to the ground. I try not to stare openly but I know I'm failing. "Meet you at breakfast in ten. We'll start watching the reaping videos."

He shuts the bathroom door and I run down the hall and into my room.

I tried really hard to take a shower in ten minutes but it was impossible. Fumes of pink steam engulf me and I'm intoxicated by the scent of roses and cinnamon. I tilt my head back and a mechanical voice asks me whether I would like a fluffy towel or an extra plush towel. I choose the extra plush towel after some careful consideration and rinse off the soap suds off slowly. I wrap the soft towel around myself, feeling a little giddy. A good shower has the same effects on me as alcohol has on any person. I head to the walk-in closet, humming the Capitol's theme song. At the corner of my eye, the grandfather clock announces that an hour has passed. I'm so late. Gasping, I grab the first pants and shirt I see and pull it on, running my fingers through my tangled hair, trying to get the knots out. I lace my boots up and dash out of the room.

I rush down the hall and found Cato sitting at the table generously pouring a frightening amount of syrup on his pancakes. He looks up as I come in and continues to drench his food.

"I was going to send someone after you," he says, taking a huge bite. "I thought you might've died in the shower."

"Funny," I say taking a seat next to him. I grab a plate of fruit and toast and began buttering the bread.

"When you finish, I'll be in there." He gestures to the next room and disappears inside. I quickly spread the butter and pour an excessive amount of sugar over the toast. Cato's not the only sweet tooth here. I push the door open and he's sitting in front of the television with his plate abandoned on the coffee table. Following his example, I ditch my breakfast on the table too and he pulls me onto his lap. I lean into him, drunken by the scent of rain on his skin. He presses the play button and the Capitol's theme song blared loudly through the speakers. After a brief welcome from President Snow, the cameras turn to District 1. We watch as a bald short escort with a perfectly round hennaed head appears on screen giving the audience the same long speech our escort gave us.

"Boring!" Cato announces, fast forwarding the speech, stopping as the man reaches into a glass bowl. Before the man has a chance to call out the female tribute, a long limbed slender girl volunteers swiftly. Cato leans forward and I slap his arm.

"Stop being so goddamn horny," I chide him.

"I'm not," he mumbles, turning bright red.

I roll my eyes and turn my attention back on the screen.

She sashays to the stage with everyone under her lust spell. When she spins around to meet the audience again, she's met by a thunderous applause. She gives them a slow seductive smile and the boys in the audience wolf whistle loudly. The peacekeepers attempt to silence the crowd and the bald escort has to yell to be heard over the commotion. He asks for male volunteers and a boy emerges from the seventeen years old section. The boy's tall but I doubt anyone can be taller than Cato. He has thick copper hair and freckles scattered over his cheeks. I watch him carefully as he walks towards the stage. His movements are a little stiff and I can tell he's a little scared even if he doesn't know it himself. Scared or not, He's a Career. That means he's a target. We catch their names and burn it into our memories. Glimmer and Marvel.

The rest of the reapings pass by in a blur and I only remember the names of tributes that might be a threat in the arena. Lavish and Titan from District 4 and Thresh from 11. I move to turn the television off, not bothering to watch District 12's reaping. Everyone knows coal miners don't stand a chance against Careers. Most likely, 12's tributes will die in the blood bath. I'm about to turn it off when a shriek comes from the speakers. I look at the screen and there's a brunette screaming at the Peacekeepers who are holding her back. She stumbles towards the stage and stands there with her chin held high. In a loud and dramatic voice, she volunteers for a young blonde girl. The crowd stands sullen as a boy drags the blonde girl away. The girl –Katniss- ascends onto the stage, trying to look high and mighty. She probably doesn't know that she's shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. I watch as a boy is picked from the crowd. A sweet looking blue eyed boy walks onto the stage in a daze like he couldn't believe he was picked. With that, I turn the television off.

Let the Games begin.


	15. Freak City

**A/N: Hey you guys! I usually never write author notes but I want to make an exception for this chapter because I want to thank all my readers. Thanks for all the reviews and story alerts. Keep it coming and happy readings! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 15:

We sit on the sofa staring at the black screen. I twirl my knife around my middle finger and Cato watches me, clearly bored. Suddenly he snatches the knife, bringing me out of my reverie. I look up annoyed and he leans back on the couch lazily, indifferent.

"Who are you going to cut up first?" He asks, running his fingers over the blade. He rattles names off the top of his head. "Marvel, Glimmer, Thresh, Rue, Peeta?"

I smile wickedly. "You."

His eyes widen for a split second and he composes himself quickly. He hands me back my knife and starts to roll up his sleeve. He holds out his arm and I stare at him stupidly. "Go ahead."

His white skin mocks me and I know he expects me to back out. I turn his arm over and trail my fingers along the smooth surface, studying the faint blue lines traveling up and down his arm. I touch the tip of the blade to his skin and press down gently. He winces as the blade cuts into him but he doesn't move. He's not the type to back out either. That's what I love about him.

I let the blade dig further into his skin and curve it upwards. He tenses as I guide the knife back down before looping it back up. His pulse quickens but he makes no attempt to stop me. A vibrant trail of blood follows my knife closely like a shadow.

I let the knife linger longer than usual before pulling it away from him. I grab the bottle of alcohol off the coffee table and pour it over the cut, holding his arm still when he jerks back automatically. I hand him the bottle and he chugs down the other half, tossing the empty bottle on the floor as the sting of the cut fades along with his senses. I tear off the hem of my shirt and wrap it around his arm tightly to staunch the flow of blood.

He leans against me heavily as the liquor begins its conquest, conquering his consciousness. I push him back on the sofa and leave the room, heading to the main area.

I sit on a comfortable chair, though not nearly as comfortable as Cato's lap and watch as the scenery flew past in a blur. I'm wondering how much longer when the train considerably slows down. That's not what I notice first, however. It was the deafening roar of the Capitol.

I rush to get closer to the window and suddenly, I'm overwhelmed by the noise. I force a smile and the crowd lunges forward, pounding their fists against the bulletproof window. The train continues to lose velocity as it draws closer to the station and Peacekeepers appear, preventing the crowd from flooding into the station.

I step off the train with Enobaria and the escort. Brutus exits last, with a very intoxicated Cato in his arms. He mutters something and shoots me a look of pure loathing.

"Don't cut up my tribute," he sneers before taking a step away from me. He turns around and add, "Crazy bitch."

I flip him off for the second time since meeting him and he stomps away, discarding Cato with a flock of chattering colorful Capitol people.

It's the people in the Capitol that fascinate me so much. With their tattooed skin, multiple piercings, and brightly colored hair, I can't believe how shallow they are underneath the permanent disguise. A city filled with giggling brainless freaks. There might as well be a sign that screams, "Freak City Bitch!"


	16. Drop Dead

CHAPTER 16

There's only one way to describe this. _Hell_. I grimace as the blue lady yanks out my hair savagely, giggling as she does so.

"Oh, you furry creature," she giggles again and applies more wax to my legs. The hot liquid burns my skin and I brace myself once again. "Last one, sweetie."

I grit my teeth and she tugs upwards, ripping out my hair. I stare at my hairless legs, red from the hot wax and close my eyes triumphantly, _no more waxing_. Before I have time to celebrate, the purple lady grabs a brush and drags it through my hair quickly, tearing out the various knots. By the end, I'm sure my face has developed a permanent scowl. She soaks my now detangled hair in a scented mixture and once she pulls it out, the strands are glossy and soft. She towels it expertly and begins braiding it in a complicated web that cascades over my shoulders. A pink man starts on my nails, painting them a glimmering gold.

"Close your eyes," the blue lady murmurs as she applies the gold eyeliner in thick sweeping lines.

She does the finishing touches and the prep team pulls back, admiring their work, squealing happily. Suddenly the door swings over dramatically and a tall glittering man enters the room, his hip swaying like a runway model. He shoos the prep team away and studies their work, nodding his approval. Finally, he gracefully falls into a swivel chair and hennas my breasts in gold ink, the design captivating and bringing a frightening amount of attention to my chest.

He slips a dress over my head, the hem brushing the floor. Along the side is a long revealing slit so that the dress can't exactly be called modest. Not to mention the terrifying amount of cleavage it shows. He fastens a belt around me and stuffs my feet in six inch heels, muttering something about how inconvenient my height is. I stagger as he hauls me out of the room and shoves me into a chariot.

I grab hold of the person next to me for balance and steady myself. I look up my heart skips a million beats. Two things I know: One, an angel is standing next to me. And two, he's drop dead gorgeous.


	17. Loverboy

**A/N: I am literally gushing over all the reviews! You guys just made my day. Thanks for all the nice comments/reviews. 38 reviews so far, think we can make it to 50? Enjoy! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 17

It's like drowning, except it's not. It's like I died and went to heaven, except I didn't. I convince myself he's not an angel and touch the armor of his costume. With the six inch heels on, I'm able to look at him without craning my neck to the point of breaking it.

Tonight he's a gladiator with interlocking silver plates serving as armor. I glance down and my eyes widen.

"Nice legs," I manage before choking on a laugh. Cato shifts uncomfortably, tugging on the hem. For him, showing his ankles is already showing too much skin. I make a show of ogling his legs just to make him uncomfortable and it works. Cato reddens and I mentally pat myself on the back.

"Stop it," he mumbles, casting his eyes to the floor.

I quit making him squirm and smile. "But really, you look nice."

"Thanks," Cato grins and checks out my costume. "You look nice too. What are you… a Roman goddess? I bet you're Venus."

I laugh. "More like a whore. This dress does not even qualify as clothing. It covers absolutely nothing."

"Well, if you put it that way, how much a night?" He teases.

I slap his arm in fake anger and he winces. Blood seeps out from under the bandage and I realize I hit his cut. I reach for him but he waves away my concern.

"Its fine," he says although it's obvious the cut hurts a lot more than he's letting on.

I start to object but the chariot lurches forward suddenly.

The chariot rolls out and Cato's eyes sparkle with excitement, the cut and pain forgotten. He turns his attention to the crowd, flashing seductive smiles at the love sick women and the occasional rich looking man, driving them all past insanity. I lower my lashes, and the screams amplify until there's a shrill ringing in my ears.

Time to turn up the heat. The goal is to get sponsors pouring in.

We're soaking up the attention when suddenly it's not our name they're chanting. It's no longer our smiles they crave.

I spin around angrily and then I see them. Flames surround the pair, licking the black leathery fabric of their outfit. I nudge Cato subtly and he taps my hand to let me know he sees them too. The two are holding hands, the fire burning bright behind them, leaving a smokeless trail. The girl –Katniss- is smiling at the crowd and the Capitol is gobbling it up by the fistful. The blue eyed boy is smiling too, but not at the crowd. He only has eyes for Katniss.

Cato signs quickly and I almost miss it. _Loverboy. _

I nod in agreement. He's staring at Katniss with soft blue eyes and she doesn't even notice him. I know what he's feeling because I'm feeling the exact same thing. The way he looks at her, the way he loves her unconditionally, its makes me sicken at the thought of killing him. I never thought I'll have something in common with a District 12 boy.

I guess Loverboy and I are both equally crazy. Only the insane dare the love someone to the point where they'll die for them.

**A/N: Btw, in case anyone didn't know who the goddess Venus is, she's the Roman version of the Greek goddess Aphrodite (goddess of beauty and love)**


	18. Relationship Status: It's Complicated

CHAPTER 18

I stumble off the chariot and wobble dangerously in my heels. Cato steadies me and I give him a grateful smile. I rip the shoes off my feet, cursing my stylist and every breath he takes.

Suddenly the escort materializes next to us, fluffing up her newest and –so far- most preposterous hairdo. Apparently having a pink chicken on one's head is now considered fashionable and stylish. I suppose I'll be having my own chicken nestling on my head soon enough.

The escort talks to us about tomorrow's schedule and training while her pink chicken pecks Brutus's face every time she turns around. Enobaria cackles as the chicken attacks Brutus's face savagely, stuffing its pink feathers into his mouth. Cato and I are intrigued as Brutus grew angrier and redder until he can no longer tolerate the chicken. With an inhuman bellow, he attacks the chicken, ripping it off the escort's head.

The escort falls to the ground, her once perfect pink chicken plucked and pathetic. Brutus slams his fist into the chicken's head for good measure and straightens up. He removes all traces of feathers from his mouth and leaves promptly, heading to his room with Enobaria following him.

Cato and I look at each other and we collapse on the floor, laughing until we'll die if we don't stop. Tried tributes pass by, hardly noticing us, escaping into their appropriate rooms. Finally, we get up and slip into a glass elevator, both of us refusing to mention or refer to the word 'chicken' because any mention of that word will transform us into laughing idiots.

Somehow we reach the room without any unintended laugh attacks and push the heavy white door open.

"Fancy," Cato remarks. He's still standing outside the room and I can't believe he's actually waiting for an invitation.

"You know you can come in, right?" I call over my shoulder as I snag a T-shirt from the closet. I give him a weird look as he came in but he shrugs it off nonchalantly.

I change quickly into the T-shirt and slip into bed. Cato is standing awkwardly in my room and I stare at him. Usually he'll already be changing and in bed by now. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," he says, taking a sudden interest in the ugly oil painting behind me.

I sit up on the bed and pat the empty spot next to me. "Get your ass in."

He slips off the costume and ducks under the covers obediently as I watch him confused.

"You're acting really strange tonight," I say crossing my arms. "What's going on?"

Finally he sits up and faces me. "I know we did this since we were six and eight but that was ten years ago."

I don't see his point. "What are you getting at?"

He rubs the back of his neck, searching for words. "I mean, do friends do this stuff or is this a 'more than friends' sort of thing?"

"I don't know." I finger a loose thread and look away quickly.

The next thing he says is so quiet I'm not sure he said it or I imagined it. But I think he might've said, "I like it to be a 'more than friends' thing."


	19. Rose, Crisscross, Luck

**A/N: Sorry I couldn't update yesterday! Had a severe case of writer's block and everything I wrote was just horrible. Anyways, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it. Read and review -TLITD**

CHAPTER 19

It's the most amazing thing in the world. It's the creation that offers salvation and comfort. It's the shower. I stand under the scorching water, letting it wash away the glitter and sparkles from the day before.

I don't remember how I got in this room but in the shower, that doesn't concern me. My bad memory, the tumor, everything is lost in the shower. The water runs over my skin in a soothing way and I relish the feeling. The shower is, like Cato would say, "Better than sex."

Eventually I force myself to part with the shower. I head out and suddenly there are three sharp raps against the door. I swing the door open and there's a girl Avox standing there with a neatly folded pile of clothes in her arms. She hands me the pile and I realize it's the uniforms for training.

I'm about to thank her when she looks past me, her eyes burning into a certain object. I follow her gaze and nearly choke when I find her staring hungrily at Cato's half naked body. I slam the door in her face, forgetting about thanking her.

Now that he's sleeping, it would be the ideal time to stare at him and that's exactly what I do. I'm enjoying the view when suddenly he mumbles something into the pillows. I jump back, certain that he just woke up when I remember something.

Fun fact about Cato: he talks in his sleep. Mostly, he just says random words that are utterly meaningless but I still listen to him when he talks though .Who knows? Maybe one day, he'll declare his undying and unconditional love for me in his sleep. I'm still waiting for that day sadly.

I listen closely and another mumble escape his lips. "Rose."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion and the next words are even more meaningless.

"Crisscross...luck."

If Cato's brain was art, it would be extremely abstract. No one would be able to understand the art and get a migraine from looking at it a second too long. In fact I feel a headache coming. I give up trying to deciphering the words and shake him awake. His eyes open and he sits up, stretching.

"Hey, what were you dreaming about?" I guess I didn't really give up yet.

"Something," he answers vaguely. He raises his eyebrow in that adorable way of his. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious, you said something in your sleep." I hand him his uniform. "Rose, crisscross, and luck."

He takes the uniform. "You can figure it out. Those are good hints."

With that, he disappears into the bathroom.

Rose, crisscross, luck.

What kind of clues are those? They're bad clues, ones that have no logical meaning.

Rose, crisscross, luck.


	20. Burn In Hell

CHAPTER 20

I lean forward, propping my elbows against the glass table. My breakfast remains untouched in front of me and I narrow my eyes, tapping my fork impatiently against the table, making a light clinking noise.

Time away from Cato makes me restless. Not that I have much time left, the tumor's getting bigger every second. A month goes by quickly until there's no more sand left in the hourglass. Tick tock, tick tock.

Enobaria watches me, her mind ticking like clockwork, the gears grinding together, hatching up a sadistic plan that I don't want to hear.

I can almost hear the gears snapping into place when Enobaria smiles slowly, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards as she connects the final pieces of her plan. Her cosmetically altered canines gleam at me, the gold fangs reflecting the sunlight.

Suddenly Enobaria's gone, replaced by a seventeen years old girl with black hair and black eyes, the girl that was crowned victor in the 62nd Hunger Games, the girl that had everything to lose and nothing more to gain. Enobaria's not that girl anymore. The girl that walked into that arena has never killed anyone; that girl was innocent. The woman that sits across from me now has blood spattered all over her soul.

It always makes me wonder why people volunteer. The Hunger Games takes everything from you, it changes you. Anyone who walks in and walks back out is no longer a person; they're the Capitol's mutt.

I pretend to listen to Enobaria and nod quickly. She continues talking, the canines cutting into her lips as she speaks, blood dripping into her iced tea. I gape at her and she smiles again, her lips shredded from her sharp canines.

"And you'll be the 74th victor," Enobaria concludes, dabbing her bloody lips with a napkin. I nod again and get up hastily.

"Are we done here?" I say, glancing at the clock. Only five minute has passed but it feels like days gone by.

Enobaria shakes her head. "One more thing, when you kill your district partner; make it slow. A little cut everyday. Just remember, the Capitol likes nothing more than to watch a pretty boy like him die little by little."

With that, Enobaria leaves the room, her waist long black hair swinging behind her. I collapse back into my chair once she's gone and bury my face in my hands.

I'm not one to pray but I don't know what else to do.

_Forgive me._

Because if Cato is to live, 22 innocent kids are going to have to die.

Their blood will stain my hands and I just want Him to know that I'm not sorry for saving someone I love. I'm sorry for all the kids that had to die for it to be done.

I would burn in hell for Cato. I doubt there's anything I wouldn't do for him.


	21. Pressure Points

CHAPTER 21

A woman stands on a raised platform and recites the rules in a loud, clear extra-squeaky voice while Peacekeepers stand around, making sure we behave. No hurting other tributes, no killing other tributes, no hacking off body parts, no injuring trainers, and so on. The list of rules seems to never end. I play with my knives idly as the woman screeches like a diseased dying cat.

I glance around the room and the only person that appears to be listening to the woman is Katniss. The other tributes are either suffering in silence or entertaining themselves by checking out Cato's ass. My eyes narrow on Glimmer and she scuttles away, ducking behind Marvel's massive frame, her predatory gaze never straying from Cato.

The woman continues talking, each shrill word hammering on my eardrums until finally the torture stops. Glimmer moves in on Cato and a possessiveness I can't explain or control takes over me as I drag Cato over to an available wrestling mat and away from Glimmer. Cato gives me a questioning look and I wave it away.

"What was that?" Cato asks as he pins the district number onto my shirt. He straightens it before handing me his own number. I don't answer and simply fasten his number on.

He studies me for a second and a mischievous expression takes over his flawless features. Before I know it, Cato's body collides with mine and my back hits the floor painfully. I scramble to my feet and he tackles me again. Cato smashes me against the floor and I feel every bone in my body trembling from the bruising force.

I struggle but it's too late. Once again, I find myself trapped helplessly under Cato. He grins and I give up.

"Alright you win," I surrender easily and wait for him to get off but he doesn't budge. He cocks his eyebrow and I look at him disbelievingly. "Move!"

He shakes his head, his light hair falling into his eyes. "No."

I push him but like usual, it does absolutely nothing. "Cato!"

"Aim for the pressure points Clove." He leads my hand over his body and guides my fingers to the right place. I press down on the spot directly under his ribs, skeptical that pressure points could actually do any damage. The results are almost immediate. He jumps off me and I roll over, slamming my knee onto his chest, holding him down. I press my knee down onto the spot he showed me and he gasps.

"Enough Clove," he pants, pain flashing in his eyes.

I slide off him and he sits up, breathing hard. "Why would you show me how to beat you?"

His body is still shaking slightly when he answers. "Maybe I want to be beaten."

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. "Cato stop, what are you doing?"

He touches his temple lightly. "Another pressure point."

He takes my hand and leads it to a vulnerable spot on his neck. I can feel his pulse under his hot skin and it makes me feel vaguely dizzy to be touching him like that and not kiss him. "If you press down right here long enough, it'll cause full unconsciousness."

I jerk away from him and he shrugs.

"I'm just trying to show you how to survive," he says, getting up.

"I don't need to know that," I hiss at his departing figure.

He lifts his shoulders into another shrug and heads to the swords section without waiting for me. He picks up a sword and tests it, swinging it around experimentally when glittering girl shimmies closer to him, her movements smooth and soundless.

Glimmer licks her cherry glossed lips slowly, sliding her hand around his waist, crushing his body against hers. He drops his sword surprised and she whispers something into his ear. She presses a small piece of paper into the palm of his hand and I recognize the thick expensive parchment. It's an alliance request. He reads the paper swiftly and glances up. She smiles sweetly at him, waiting expectedly for an answer and he shrugs, saying something I can't hear. He breaks away from Glimmer and I look away quickly before he can catch me watching his exchange with Glimmer.

I sit down, curling my legs under me and cut my name into the brand new wrestling mats, watching Glimmer from the corner of my eye. It's obvious that Marvel's skill lies with spears since he keeps stealing glances at the spear station but I can't seem to figure out Glimmer's weapon. She's proficient at everything but excels at nothing. My eyebrows furrows together as I try to understand. She holds the axe the wrong way and when she throws it, it lands two feet away from her flawlessly manicured toes. Her skill with a bow and arrow are nonexistent and she knows it. She doesn't seem bothered by it though, apparently she thinks she can win without using a single weapon the Capitol offers.

We'll see about that.


	22. Such A Bitch

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games (haha, I did not realize I had to do this) **

**A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, favorites, and follows! You readers are amazing and if you guys can all review, I think we can make it to 70 reviews. So how about it? Hit that review button at the end and let me know what you think of this chapter! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 22

I've always had a way of blaming people for things that are entirely out of their control and Cato called me out on it so many times that I decided that I have to stop playing the blame game in such an unfair manner. This time, however, I'm positive that this person is completely responsible for his actions and no less.

It's Cato's fault.

If he wasn't so goddamn hot, Glimmer would be splattered all over Marvel instead.

I finish ruining the wrestling mats and toss my knife aside. The Peacekeepers are grumbling loudly but it doesn't bother me. What bother me are Glimmer and her persistence to get into Cato's pants.

The bell rings signaling the lunch break and I leave the training room, trying to keep up my cool, calm, and collected demeanor but it's hard pretending that I don't care about Cato's new _best friend_. Carts piled with food line up along the wall and in the center of the open space are plenty of tables. I grab a tray, gravitating towards the desserts cart. Sugar always makes me feel better and right now all I need is a sugar rush.

I'm overdosing on sugar when I finally decide to acknowledge Marvel who has been standing silently next to me.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I ask coolly, swirling the vanilla icing on my cupcake.

He doesn't speak and simply passes me an alliance request. I fold the paper and slip it into my pocket. "I'll think about it."

He nods and gestures to the sweets on my plate. "No veggies?"

I shake my head. "I don't eat rabbit food."

He laughs easily and snags a cherry pie from the cart. He follows me over to my table and sits down across from me where Cato usually sits.

"Yes," I say, beginning to indulge myself.

"Yes?" Marvel repeats, confused.

"Yes, alliance accepted." I'm starting to feel the sugar high and it will only do me good to have someone like Marvel on my side.

I find myself comparing them, how Cato is everyone's definition of beautiful and how Marvel's beauty is more muted. Whereas Cato is dealt the standard generic good looks, Marvel has red hair that clash with his bright green eyes, a different kind of beauty.

Marvel shifts in his seat nervously and I glance behind me to see what makes him so uneasy. Standing behind me is a tall boy with ice cold blue eyes. I roll my eyes. It's just Cato.

"Clove," Cato says approaching the table. Sure enough, Glimmer trails behind him, her arm brushing his too much to be accidental. His voice drops to a low whisper. "What are you doing?"

"I'm showing you you're replaceable," I say, meeting his eyes. The ice in his eyes shine angrily and his fingers tighten around my wrist, effectively cutting off my blood flow. He yanks me to my feet and pulls me away from the other Careers who are watching curiously.

He drags me into an empty hallway and paces, running his hand through his hair like he does when he's angry or upset. I assume it's the first one.

"What do you want?" I ask with as much dignity as a person might have after being dragged through a room.

"To know why you're so mad at me," Cato stops pacing suddenly and waits for my answer.

I glare at him but I don't respond. I know if I start talking, this argument will escalate to the point where we'll start killing each other.

"What did I do wrong this time?" He pleads, the ice melting in his eyes.

The words pour out of my mouth and the second they did, I wish I could take them all back. "You're repulsive! You're practically drooling over Glimmer. God, it's disgusting!"

He flinches, the hurt obvious in his eyes, and recovers quickly; his eyes so cold it freezes my heart, stopping it mid-beat. "You're such a bitch."

Before I can think of a comeback, Cato leaves the hallway, his back turning on me. I've never felt so wrong. It was never Cato's fault. It was mine, my fault for being so jealous, my fault we're fighting now.

I'm such a bitch.


	23. Fireworks

**A/N: Time to fix all the broken Clato hearts! Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 23

Training and dinner just ended and I find myself smack in the most awkward situation ever. Imagine an elevator. Now imagine an elevator with absolutely no classical music playing softly in the background. Finally imagine being in that same elevator with the person you just had a not-so-pleasant fight with. It's just not an ideal situation.

I continue to ignore him and he stands there uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. I keep glancing at him for some reason and I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss him during training today. Cato meets my gaze and I look away quickly, fixating my eyes to the floor.

"Clove?" He asks hesitantly, breaking the silence.

I don't even look his way.

"Damn it Clove. What did I do that was so wrong?" He slumps against the elevator's glass walls and I have to admit that by making him feel like shit makes me feel like shit too.

"If you weren't so hot, Glimmer wouldn't be attached to your hip," I answer heatedly as the elevator stops on our floor. The doors slide open with a ding and I push past Cato, my shoulder brushing his arm.

"She's not attached to my hip; she's just an ally, nothing more," Cato says, rolling his eyes.

If Glimmer's not attached to your hip, she's attached to your dick. Either way, she's attached to you. I begin the short walk to my room and Cato easily falls into step with me, his footsteps light while mine's reverberate loudly off the walls.

He grins and stops suddenly. "Wait what? You think I'm hot?"

I shoot him another glare before I get into bed. Let's just say I'm very good at delivering the silent treatment, _exceptionally_ good in fact.

"Tell me you're kidding. Tell me you're not actually making me apologize for being hot," he says exasperated. He strips his shirt off and tosses to the floor. "It's not my fault I'm hot and you know it Clove."

I do not know that and it's _so_ his fault.

"Oh fuck me, you're actually making me apologize for being hot," he groans. "You're fucking impossible."

And you're fucking responsible for being hot.

"Not to mention stubborn," Cato mutters under his breath. He points his finger at me in an accusation. "You're unbelievable."

"Are you here to insult me or say sorry?" I say irritated.

"I'm going to insult you first then say sorry. I think you deserve a few insults thrown your way," he shot back.

"Well, I think you deserve to burn alive you arrogant fuck." I sit up on the bed and narrow my eyes at him.

"I think you deserve to die in a deep dark hole, alone," Cato replies with no shortages on insults. "And that word, fuck, is an unladylike term. I'm shocked that such foul language can come from such a sweet girl."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck you!" I yell immaturely before pulling the covers over my head.

He laughs softly and I feel a light pressure on my waist as Cato wraps his arm around it, his touch barely there. Still, it's enough to make my heart pound like I'm running a ten miles race.

"I'm sorry for being hot," he says, fighting hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

I turn around to face him and I didn't realize how close he is until my lips accidentally grazes his. I freeze and Cato moves in, closing the space between us. It's like fireworks are exploding in my mouth when his lips find mine. His hand slides down my back in an entrancing way, setting me on fire.

There's no way he's not an angel.

He smirks into the kiss and I gasp horrified. Did I say that _out loud_?

"I'm no angel," he murmurs against my neck, his breath cool and intoxicating.

I… can't… think… straight…

Suddenly, all I need to do is get away from him. I push him away and lean back, catching my breath.

"Too much for you?" Cato asks cockily, propping himself up on an elbow.

Yes.

I… can't… think…

**Ohhhhhhh, Clove and Cato's FIRST KISS! What do you guys think of that? Cato's such a badass… Anyways, REVIEW! **


	24. On Your Side

**A/N: As some of you might know, I'm starting another fanfic. Two actually! So, the bad news is that I might not be able to update this one as quickly as before. Good news is, the new fanfictions (The Monster You've Become & Hot Addiction) are bound to blow your mind! Hot Addiction is Clato and TMYB is Peeta and Katniss. Check them out! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 24

His kiss left me feeling high all throughout training. I couldn't even be difficult about Glimmer during training because I was still fantasizing about the kiss. It's like the usual version of Clove died and is replaced by a nice easygoing Clove. I don't even recognize myself.

I sit at the table waiting for the rest of the Careers to get their lunches as Marvel tells me a year's worth of dirty jokes that make me laugh uncontrollably. Glimmer shakes her head at me as though I'm below her and glides towards the table with an air of superiority. She dramatically sits down slowly crossing one leg over the other in what grandmothers would call in a slutty way.

Marvel seems to like it though and she knows it since she slithers closer to Marvel. He whispers something into her ear and she tilts her head back, laughing. I have never heard a faker laugh.

"You in Clove? Glimmer's up for it," Marvel says, leaning over so that his face is closer to mine.

"Up for what?" I ask, flicking my hair out of my eyes.

"Three way," Marvel answers, a dirty expression taking over his flawless features.

I look at him confused and suddenly pull back, letting out a disgusted cry. "No way."

Marvel laughs and arches his eyebrow once he sees that both Glimmer and I are watching Cato as he makes his way over. Marvel wiggles his eyebrow knowingly. "How about four way?"

Glimmer giggles annoyingly and I grit my teeth. "How about you shut up?"

Marvel shrugs and begins shoveling food in his mouth. District 4's tributes arrive at the table, sitting side by side, listening in on our conversation, trying to get any useful scrap of information. Well, the only thing they're gaining is how to successfully piss off Clove. Maybe they'll even learn how to piss off Clove to the point where she kills them.

I tap my foot impatiently as Cato slides in at the head of the table, clearly letting everyone know that he's running the show. After dropping his tray on the table, he releases a fistful of paper, the expensive parchment scattering across the wooden surface.

"I got an alliance request from everyone," Cato begins, "so I'm in charge."

Glimmer's skeptical eyes scan the various papers quickly. "I don't see an alliance request from Clove. What's she doing here then?"

"She's automatically an ally," Cato replies, giving me a wink. "Any other concerns?"

Glimmer pouts but she lets it go without further complaints.

"Good, listen up. We kill everyone else first, then we can turn on each other. No sooner. Clear?" He takes a bite of his frosted cupcake and somehow manages to make it look intimidating. "If I even _think_ you're planning to kill beforehand, I kill you. Simple as that."

Everyone nods sullenly and Cato continues, satisfied that no one's crossing him. "First thing you do when you step off the plate in the arena is run towards the Cornucopia. Kill people along your way if you want."

The bell rings loudly and the Careers gets up to leave.

"One more thing," Cato says, his blue eyes glittering dangerously. "We hunt at night."

**A/N: Oh snap! Alliance formed! Bam! Cato, that cutie…and Marvel is such a dirty boy. I will cry when I kill Marvel. I will die when I kill Cato. If only I could save them all... **

**Unfortunately, this is a canon and we all know how this story end *cries an ocean and drowns the world* **

**(In case you don't know, Clove, Cato, and everyone else besides Peeta and Katniss dies) **

**Anyways, like usual, review and I shall give you all a virtual hug and maybe, just maybe, an alternate ending. No promises though! **


	25. Nothing

A** A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! Thanks for all the nice reviews. Only 22 more reviews and we hit 100. I'm so excited for that! You guys are very motivational and I appreciate that! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 25

It's always on the third and last day of training that we showcase our skills to the Gamemakers. Most of the tributes are sweating it out, but Cato and I sit there, calmly awaiting our turn.

The dead silence unnerves most of the tributes but I like it this way. This calm, it's rare at home. Masonry, hammer on nails, day and night, it never stops. Cato looks at me and his hands move quickly. _What are you thinking about? _

Home.

But I don't tell him that. Instead I give him a mysterious smile and he turns away, fidgeting with the bandages around his arm. I take his hand and unwound the white bandages slowly.

The cut has healed and I place my arm alongside his. It's a mirror image, a reflection off a lake, a rose on his arm identical to mine.

"We match," he says softly.

I nod and trace a petal, feeling his pulse strong and steady under my fingers. His heart can beat for the both of us when he wins.

Suddenly his name is called and Cato disappears behind the double doors. I already know what he's doing. A sword routine that's been practiced over and over until it's completely flawless. I've seen the routine too many times and let me just say this, the Gamemakers better brace themselves for pure perfection because they're about to get hit in the face with it.

Minutes tick by and Cato's done just on time. The double doors open again and as I pass through the doors, an insane idea creeps its way into my head. For what it's worth, I'm already dead so whatever I do now, I'm losing nothing.

The panel sits before me, still obviously amazed from Cato's performance. They look at me expectedly and Seneca Crane clears his throat.

"You may begin," he says, settling into his seat, giving me his full attention. The way he looks at me... I don't like it. His gaze, it's predatory. The other Gamemakers whisper excitedly as I make my way into the center.

Seneca Crane licks his lips slowly, his slimy tongue running over his puffed up lips. "I'm waiting, my pretty," he says, watching me with those beady eyes of his.

I sit down on the floor and place my knife in front of me.

Well, he's going to keep waiting. I'm doing nothing.

I'm not a piece in their Games.

**A/N: Not my best chapter, I know. But I promise you guys, next chapter will be better! Lots of Clato coming up but before we can get to the good stuff, we have to get downright bad. So brace yourselves! Some bad things are going to happen! Like usual REVIEW! **


	26. Poison Kiss

**A/N: I didn't update yesterday for two reasons. One, it was my best friend's birthday. And two, I wanted to spend the day with her. So there you have it. Sorry about the wait you guys. But this next chapter should make up for all of that! Thanks for all the reviews. 12 more reviews and we hit 100! Enjoy! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 26

Look into the galaxy tonight. All those stars, they represent the people who live in the districts. Planets, they represent the Capitol and its silly citizens. Sun, represents President Snow.

Tell me why President Snow shines so bright when he's just another star.

He's just another person among millions and yet he controls everything.

I look from one Gamemaker to the other. They're nothing but planets stuck in President Snow's gravitational pull.

"You may leave," Seneca Crane says, showing no emotion. I leave the room, not sure whether what I did was brave or stupid. Maybe it's a combination of both.

I turn the corner and stop dead in my tracks.

It's Cato.

And Glimmer.

Kissing like it's the last night on earth.

My throat constricts and I stumble back, feeling betrayed although Cato was never mine to begin with.

Glimmer pulls back teasingly and runs her perfectly manicured fingers across Cato's chest.

"What's your weapon?" Cato asks, sounding slightly out of breath.

She giggles and lowers her lashes flirtatiously. She leans in closer until her lips are brushing his. "I'll give you a taste," she breathes.

She pulls out something strange but I'm too disorientated to find out what it is. All I can process is that Glimmer is kissing Cato.

Suddenly I can't take this anymore. Every second I watch them kiss is like another knife slicing into me. I dart past them and run down the maze of halls with tears pricking in my eyes. It doesn't matter that Cato's running after me. I don't want him to catch me.

"Clove!" Cato yells, turning a corner. "Let me explain!"

There's nothing to explain. I duck into the elevator and the doors slide close before Cato can come in. Cato slams his fist against the glass door and takes the elevator next to mine.

We arrive on the second floor at about the same time and I grab a thin Avox, shoving the young girl into Cato to buy time. Cato flicks the girl aside but it's too late. I've already reached my room and locked the door behind me.

Cato's body slams into my door, making it shake in its frame. "Clove!"

I don't answer. I have nothing to say to him.

He knocks insistently, making promises that I know he'll break sooner or later. I cover my ears with my hands, squeezing my eyes shut to keep his voice out when suddenly he's dead quiet. A minute later, there's a bloodcurdling scream outside my room.

I don't think. I yank the door open and my heart stops when I see him on his knees with a fountain of blood running down his neck.

"Cato!" I scream, tears blurring my vision.

He chokes and his arms shake bizarrely at his side. More blood hit the floor in a rain that never ends.

I stagger to my feet and pound on doors as I run down the hall, tears falling freely now. Brutus throws his door open angrily and I scream at him to get help. Brutus waves me away and I point at Cato, screaming. Brutus takes one look at Cato and he's running for his phone.

"Crazy _fucking_ bitch!" He yells, dialing a number into his phone. "What the hell did you do to him now?"

Paramedics arrive in seconds and the second floor is crawling with men clad in white suits. I push past them, trying to reach Cato but he's gone, leaving behind puddles of blood. I press my hand above his heart, desperate to feel a heartbeat but there is none.

"No! Cato!" I scream, a numbness washing over me. "Don't leave me."

Don't leave me. I say it as they stab him with needles. Don't leave me. I say it when they pump blood into him to replace the blood he lost. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

I don't know what else to do.

Suddenly two words bring me out of my daze. Two words: _He's alive. _

He's alive.

I breath out slowly, relieved and he's lying on the floor, stripped and covered in his own blood but he's _breathing. _

I catch two more words and suddenly everything makes sense. _Poisoned. Hijacked. _

It was Glimmer. That strange object in her hand, it was a needle. Her weapon is poison. I should've known.

I'm going to kill that poisonous bitch myself.

**A/N: I hoped you liked that chapter. I worked hard on it and pushed through my writer's block. Isn't this just getting more and more interesting? I hope so at least haha. REVIEW and let me know what you think!**

**Btw, if any of you guys think you know what 'rose, crisscross, luck' means, by all means, PM me and I'll tell you if you're right. I want to see what you guys think it means or if anyone got it!**


	27. Bulletproof

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews! I got so many author alerts, story alerts, favorites, and such. You don't know how happy it makes me! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 27

The hospital in the Capitol is nothing like the hospital in District 2. Here everything is whiter, cleaner, and bigger. It's not better though. At home, Cato wouldn't have been able to get his poisoned ass off the hospital bed. How in the world he did it is beyond me. All I know is that somehow, even with all the security surrounding the place, Cato manages to hop right off the bed and is currently running down the halls in his life-threatening condition with a posse of doctors chasing him. If I wasn't so goddamn worried, I would be laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Cato stumbles away from the doctors and his eyes flash crazily. The nurses scramble after him, yelling instructions and wielding numerous needles. He backs up into a corner and the doctors form a tight semicircle around him, blocking any possible escape route.

What do people do when they're trapped? Some people surrender and beg for mercy. Not Cato, he bites back.

Suddenly his body shakes violently and he doubles over, coughing up a river of black blood. Sweat plasters his hair against his forehead and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his face. I slam my fists against the glass separating us in desperation to get to him.

"Cato, don't fight! They're helping you!" I shout, but the glass is not only bulletproof, it's soundproof.

Cato takes in the room and he stands up unsteadily, leaning against the white washed walls for support. He staggers forward and a brave but stupid nurse breaks the semicircle. She rushes towards him, brandishing her needle in a wide arch. Bad move on her part.

His hand twitches and before anyone can comprehend what happened, the nurse falls to the ground, her neck twisted unnaturally to the left. Cato had snapped her neck so fast; she didn't even have time to close her eyes.

Now those same eyes stare glassily at the other doctors, delivering a clear warning: that this tribute is a monster. Cato stands above the body, his eyes blazing and its flames spreading faster than ever. His hand jerks to the left and another body hits the floor.

Those _stupid_ doctors, what did they think was going to happen when they threaten him? Cato is born to kill. He's not some helpless kid from District 12.

Suddenly, a series of spasms sends Cato crashing to the ground again and more blood spill to the floor.

I slam my head against the glass in anguish and feel my forehead getting hot and wet. My fingers fly to my head and it comes away stained red. I drop my hand and suddenly everything is blurry. I blink the tears away before they could come and my chest tightens painfully every time Cato spasms.

"Cato!" I scream but he doesn't look my way. His breathing is erratic and abnormal, his chest falling and rising rapidly. Suddenly I can't breathe either, white spots appearing in my vision. His head hits the floor and he chokes on his blood, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

My hands continue to hit the glass although I know I can't break through. Cato struggles to get back up and with a barbaric screech, the doctors and nurses movie in and stab him fiercely with their needles. Cato slumps forward from the drugs and the doctors wheels him away along with the two still-warm dead bodies on the floor.

I relax against the glass and the cold surface calms me. He's going to live.

**A/N: OMG, Cato's first kills, poor doctor and nurse. Dang, remind me not to get on Cato's bad side. Anyways, coming up next….. CLATO TIME! REVIEW!**

**Ok, this has nothing to do with the story whatsoever… but "One More Night" by Maroon 5… omg it's such an amazing song. YOU MUST LISTEN TO IT RIGHT NOW. That is, after you review ;)**


	28. Almost

**A/N: ANDDDDD I'M BACK! Hopefully, I didn't lose any readers during my mysterious disappearance! But here it is (finally!), the moment you've all been waiting for! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 28:

Hours have passed and amazingly, the hospital staff still stands firmly by their ridiculous regulations and rules like their lives depend on it. Honestly, I have absolutely no problems with their regulations and rules except for that tiny part which states that under no circumstances will a tribute be allowed visitation during the recovery period. Well Doc, riddle me this. What if the circumstance included a scary girl with a very pointy knife? What then?

Exactly Doc. Shut up and lead the way before I skin you alive.

And that is how you get things done. I find threats to be extremely effective in persuading people. Blackmail also works although blackmail is a much trickier art only attempted by the most masterful of evil masterminds. Like myself, for example. I grin to myself, thinking about all the times I have successfully blackmailed Cato into doing what I want. I wince mentally, thinking about what he did to get me back.

One thing for sure, Cato gets creative with his revenge.

The Doc makes another left and sneaks a glance at me. I glare at him and he whimpers, scurrying along like a sniveling worm.

Two more lefts and one right later, we reach our destination. The door is one foot thick and is made out of steel. My reflection scowls back at me.

"Open the door," I say, tapping my knife impatiently against the steel.

He fumbles with the keypad, typing in a twelve number code before scanning his eyes. I give him a curt nod and he leaves with his tail between his legs. No exaggeration; he had a goddamn furry tail.

Rolling my eyes at the so-called fashion at the Capitol, I walk into the room.

My first coherent thought was: _He's alive. _And then I tackled him.

"Oof!" He grunts and I squeeze him tighter until I have to let go because he couldn't breathe properly.

"Clove?" he wheezes, rubbing his stomach where I had accidentally jabbed him with my elbow.

"Who else would it be?" I study him quickly, and exhale in relief when he seems fine, maybe a little pale, but fine.

He shrugs in response to my question and tries to make room for me on the small bed. It's about half the size of the bed in my room at home and I eye it skeptically.

"I don't think we'll both fit on that," I point out.

He cocks one eyebrow. "I think we will."

Before I can reply, Cato pulls me down on top of him. A lot of things almost happened that night. He almost died because Glimmer poisoned him. I almost died because he was so perfect under me.

"Told you we'll fit." Cato rests his hands lightly on my waist and adjusts me so that I'm more or less lying on top of him.

"You're warm" is my answer.

"You're beautiful" is his.

"You're sexy" is mine.

And on it goes we fell asleep.

**A/N: Writing about Cato and Clove gets me a little down sometimes because it makes me feel forever alone. Anyone else feel like that? **

**Anyways, like it, hate it? Have any good ideas for next chapter? Let me know in the reviews! ;)**

**By the way, I'm going to try to update once a week from now on. Hopefully, my teachers will stop giving so much homework. **

**Andddd for all you Hot Addiction addicts out there, CHAPTER 8 WILL COME. I PROMISE. **

**And I'm out. Good night people. **

**Love always, TLITD**


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